"Don't they got anything more important to do? Like, say, what they're supposed to be actually paid for?"

This was grumbled by Xander Harris under the man's breath while walking through a service corridor of the Wayne Enterprises building's basement at quitting time. It'd been a total pain in the ass all day, being stalked by three people surreptitiously following his every move during Xander's temp work.

The only time when Xander had a break from this aggravating, near-continuous scrutiny was when some young woman clearly in charge of those morons showed up and browbeat them back to their desks. Unfortunately, whenever that boss lady got busy with her own responsibilities, one or the other of the bozos promptly sneaked off to resume their spying on Xander, who wasn't looking forward to the rest of his week here if it came with more of the same.

He had no choice, though. Xander needed the money in order to cover his rent on the Charm City motel room where he was staying until Willow did her mojo and brought him back home. Otherwise, he'd seriously thought about confronting them, but the possibility of losing his temper during this because of some cockamamie reason risked Xander getting fired for causing a ruckus. Maybe tomorrow morning, it'd be a good idea to have a chat beforehand with someone who seemed to be the only rational adult in the whole Wayne Security businessplace. That other, slightly older lady, who was the head honcho's personal assistant, had looked definitely irritated about the entire situation, so she probably knew what was going on and could tell the other weirdos to knock it off or else.

Xander was growing really tired of feeling the need to check his fly every couple—

Muffled yelling abruptly reached Xander's ears from behind a door for a room set ahead in the left-hand corridor wall. Continuing to stride forwards, the Scooby Gang veteran cocked his head with interest as he made out the shouted angry words now becoming much more comprehensible at every step:

"Will you two bastards just beat it?! This is my score, and I don't want either of you messing it up!"

Some other voice inside the room yelled back in an equal display of bad temper, "Like hell we will! This is our own chance to pull a quick, easy job, Frank, and you're not gonna keep us outta here!"

"What Al said," an additional voice rumbled like distant thunder.

At that point in the service corridor, Xander paused in front of what he saw painted on the front of the door to be a janitor's closet. Peering more closely at the door, Xander noticed it was set ajar a crack which was how'd the loud argument between what sounded like three guys in there had attracted his notice. Deciding whatever going on inside was none of his business, Xander started walking again…and somehow tripped over his untied shoelace.

With perfect accuracy, Xander fell against the door, crashing through the panel abruptly forced open by his weight, and ended up sprawled face-down upon the interior concrete floor of the janitor's room. Taking a moment to recover from the shock of his impact onto the hard surface, Xander next looked up at the room's startled trio all staring in surprise at their unexpected intruder.

From right to left, there was a chubby, white-haired dude in work overalls; a shorter, skinnier man with a pointy face dressed in a sports jacket and khaki pants; and last of all one massively-built gent whose Gotham Rogues football jersey was barely contained by a set of extra-wide shoulders.

Mr. Skinny reacted first by speedily pointing a finger at Xander still on the floor and snarling, "We got a stinking snoop! Milt, grab him!"

The huge man apparently named Milt lumbered forward, bending over with hands the size of hams extended to start a capturing clutch onto Xander, who definitely wasn't in the mood for this. Coming off the floor like a sprinter out of the starting blocks for an Olympic 100 meter dash, Xander ducked his chin and rammed the top of his head right into Milt's approaching stomach.

A very pained "Ooofff!" accompanied by Milt doubling over and holding his aching midriff took care of that adversary for now. Straightening up fully, Xander looked over that man's football jersey at his next opponent, Mr. Skinny.

Unfortunately, that guy had his own plan, which involved yanking out from his jacket pocket one really peculiar gun. Pointed directly at Xander instantly halting in his tracks, that strange weapon had an oddly bulbous muzzle, strips of pulsating red lights on either side of the gun, and it made a quite threatening buzz! sound as if it were charging up to discharge a pulse of deadly energy.

Showing his snaggle teeth in a mirthless smirk, Mr. Skinny opened his mouth, about to say something which probably had to do with an incipient death threat until he was interrupted.

"HOLD EVERYTHING!" bellowed the last of the trio. Xander, Skinny-fella, and even Milt turned to look over there at where Chubby was staring in growing perplexity at…Xander?

This visitor from his home dimension to the DC Universe in turn eyed with bafflement how the oldest dude there now bustled forward to then stop prudently out of the line of the aimed gun but still within arm's reach of Xander, commencing a much closer study of that former Sunnydale native's face. All the while wondering what was going on, Xander had good reason to flinch at how Chubby then whooped with glee, "Jesus, kid, it's really you!"

"Huh?" came from Milt. Judging from Mr. Skinny's dumbfounded expression, he was thinking the same. To be fair, so was Xander.

Chubby somewhat cleared up the mystery by proudly informing all there, "Yeah, Sammy here learned from me how to be a proper henchman years ago, until he went off to try his luck in the underworld big leagues at Gotham."

Becoming more solemn, the older man with a boozer's nose and rheumy gaze regarded with increasing concern a boggled Xander, before asking in a worried tone, "I still almost didn't recognize you, kid, what with how that eyepatch changes your looks. What the hell happened to you, anyway?"

Okaaaayyyy…obviously a honest case of mistaken identity here, Xander frantically thought to himself. He shot a quick glance at where Mr. Skinny was still pointing that bizarre pistol at him. Seeing how this was the DC Universe, it might actually be a real disintegrator raygun.

That decided it for Xander. The smartest thing to do was to come up with a fast story to talk his way out of this, and then call the cops later on these guys who absolutely had to be crooks of some sort. So, what'd work in persuading them to keep thinking he was this Sammy guy and also explain the absence of his eye—

Of course. There was one particular lunatic in Gotham City of which anything would be believed.

Dropping his gaze to fixedly examine the toes of his shoes, Xander muttered to no one in particular, "It was the Joker."

The other three men in the room simultaneously groaned in evident sympathy. Mr. Skinny even lowered his raygun.

Chubby shook his head hard in frustration, berating Xander all the while, "You lose your mind or something, Sammy? I told you to stay the fuck away from that grinning freak!"

Continuing to wear a hangdog expression, Xander again muttered, "I got a little down on my luck, and word went around he was paying big bucks for a new gang—"

"Yeah," Chubby exasperatedly sighed, "probably 'cuz he wiped out his last bunch simply for shits and giggles! You needed money, couldn't you have just called? I woulda loaned you it, no problem!"

Instead of responding, Xander merely hunched his shoulders in silent apology. This brought him a friendly pat on the shoulder from Chubby. Even better, Mr. Skinny finally put away his deadly futuristic pistol back into a jacket pocket.

Chubby saw this, too. Stepping back from Xander, the older man then thoughtfully rubbed at his fleshy nose reddened by numerous broken capillaries from far too much alcohol during the past few years. He then announced to them, "Hey, listen, guys. I got hired a month ago as one of the janitors the same reason I figure you're all here. The Wayne Security company up there, they've been pretty busy lately, inventing lots of stuff that people we've worked for would be really interested in and pay serious cash on the barrelhead. You with me, Milt, Sammy, Al?"

Xander hastily joined in with the agreeing nods of the other two. Satisfied, Chubby continued, "Well, I was doing okay going through their trash, finding important info those dopes with no idea of security just threw away. In the meantime, I spotted a really nice opportunity for a major caper but I had to pass it up because there's no way I could do it on my own. Now that you're here, though…"

"Okay, Frank, keep talking," an intent Al urged.

Frank just lifted a skeptical eyebrow at this sudden eagerness. "If you're in, you follow my orders exactly and we split the dough an even four ways when it's over. Capisce?"

Al hesitated for a moment, before shrugging in resignation. "Yeah, that works. I'm in. So's Milt, aren't you?" An annoyed glower was sent towards the gigantic man looking a bit confused over how things had abruptly changed in the room during the last few minutes.

"What? Oh, sure, Al," obediently replied Milt to his partner in crime. The colossus in human form much more comfortable with using his muscles than an underdeveloped brain did want to know for sure, "Sammy's gonna be with us, too, right?"

They all looked at Xander, who in turn was glumly wondering how he got himself into these absurd situations. His previous strategy still applied, however: just pretend to go along with whatever those guys came up with and then promptly take off as fast as possible into the opposite direction when it seemed safe. Sticking to the plan, Xander willingly said, "Sounds good to me. I'm in. So, what's the caper?"

"A snatch," Frank smugly replied.

Xander instantly knew his strategy had just gone into serious suckage.

His inner horrified reaction was mostly covered by Al himself saying a bit uneasily due to learning they were about to get involved into something a lot bigger than mere theft, "We're gonna pull a kidnapping for real? Who's the bunny? It better be someone worth a big enough payday to risk serving time in a federal pen if we get caught."

Frank just smirked at the clearly unnerved trio. Even Milt appeared somewhat anxious from the way he now shifted on one enormous foot to another like an edgy elephant. Knowing that he had a sure-fire scheme made Frank quite confident, though, so he proceeded to lay it all out to the other henchmen.

"The guy's working right here now up at the Wayne Security floor. Who else but Van Wayne, the big boss and a total rich idiot who spends money like it's going out of style tomorrow. Want to know the best part? After the snatch, we'll get him to call his bank and have them send over a briefcase stuffed full of loot. He's actually done things like that before plenty times, so nobody will even bat an eye at him wanting some quick cash for a truly stupid purchase that's expensive beyond belief except for the wealthy."

Al considered this. It sounded good, but… "You're really sure he can pay his own ransom?"

Jerking a thumb at his janitor's outfit, Frank wryly responded, "I've been cleaning the executive bathrooms on all the floors. Wayne's the only one with a solid-gold toilet. That answer your question?"

"Oh, yeahhhh," drawled Al, appearing a lot more happier at hearing that. A sudden potential problem occurred to him to change his good mood into wariness. He squinted at Frank. "Hold it. Where are we gonna keep this Wayne guy during the job?"

Frank just walked over to the left side of the janitor's room and reached out to fiddle with something concealed behind one of the wall shelves holding cleaning supplies. At the back of the room, the rear wall silently slid open, revealing a larger chamber with a small center table, bunk beds, and numerous cardboard boxes neatly piled up to the ceiling inscribed with the words EMERGENCY FOOD/WATER.

Xander, Milt, and Al gawked in unison at what Frank now told them, "This is one of the fallout shelters from the 'fifties the government built for their offices that were here then. When the new Wayne building was put up thirty years later, everyone forgot about it until I found it poking around. It's not on any blueprints that I know of, so that's perfect for stashing Van Wayne after we collect our money and head for Brazil. He'll be absolutely fine in there for a day or two until we call the cops and tell them where he is. Okay, whaddya think?"

Al gleefully said, "Frank, you've outdone yourself. I hear those Brazil beaches are wall-to-wall topless hot chicks. How much are you gonna make Wayne cough up?"

"Two million bucks," proudly replied Frank, which brought an enthusiastic grunt from Milt who even if leaving school after sixth grade could instantly divide that by four to calculate his share to be a lovely five hundred grand. Al was just as joyful, and as for Xander (or Sammy)…

Sending a sickly smile around at the others, Xander tried to be as excited as his fellow felons. "Sounds great! I guess we'll be really busy the next couple of days figuring out the details, right?"

"Wrong," Frank disagreed, shaking his head. "We're pulling the job tonight."

"I'm bored," Van Wayne petulantly announced a couple hours later, seated at the fallout shelter's table.

Across the table, Xander Harris glowered at that kidnapped moron, the throbbing bruises all over his back not having him in the best of moods. Yeah, okay, the Wayne Security breakroom chair one of the women now locked in there had hit him with was one of those spindly seats composed of a curving, one-piece plastic strip and four thin metal legs so it hadn't put him down for the count like a more durable one would've. It still hurt, though.

Xander's bad temper wasn't noticed at all by Van Wayne leaning back to regard with peevishness the blank ceiling instead of his four companions also at the table responsible for that bumbling executive's latest predicament. Mind you, the extremely annoyed expression presently on Xander's face was hidden by the mask earlier provided by Frank to conceal their identities in the course of the small group's lawbreaking.

That'd seemed reasonable enough, but unfortunately the only masks Frank had on immediate hand then were the building's Christmas decorations. Their leader picked Santa Claus for himself, Al got to be an elf, Milt was a jolly snowman, and Xander—

Red nose lit up by an inner twinkling lightbulb, Xander was none other than Rudolph.

"Bored, bored, bored!" caroled Van Wayne, looking around at the holiday crooks. "Look, you've got your money, and you'll be leaving soon in a few hours when things quiet down. In the meantime, what am I going to do? Honestly, this is cruel and unusual punishment for me!"

Giving an irritated sigh which blew out his fake whiskers, Frank got out of his chair and went over to one of the fallout shelter shelves. He came back a moment later, holding a deck of cards in one hand. Seating himself at the table again, Frank peeled off with the edge of a thumbnail the fragile cellophane wrapper of the cards which had to be at least fifty years old.

"If we play poker with you, will you just shut up for a while?"

Van Wayne sulkily shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, all right, but what are we going to use for chips?"

There was a short pause in the room while the five men there looked at the stuffed-full bank briefcase set onto the center of the table.

Beginning to shuffle the cards, Frank announced, "The game is classic stud poker, guys. No sissy stuff like spit in the ocean and the rest of that kiddie crap. Now, let's deal."

(Twenty floors up, a crude signaling device created from a compact's mirror, a disassembled breakroom refrigerator and a handkerchief with a shaky bat-symbol drawn on it in lipstick was aimed out a window.)

Some time later, Xander flipped over his winning cards and swept up in his arms the remaining pile of cash. Pushing it over to Frank and Al to tidily stack up and return it to the briefcase, he heard from Van Wayne a protesting, "Wait! One more hand, that's all! I know my luck's going to change!"

Xander snorted through his Rudolph mask. At least the light's battery had finally run down. "You don't have any more money…again. What're you going to use to bet?"

Van Wayne actually concentrated for several moments over this problem. He brightened up at apparently finding a solution to that: "I'll bet your freedom, double or nothing!"

"What?" came in puzzlement from all there holding Van Wayne prisoner, who himself was nodding vigorously.

"If I win, you give back the money and leave without further ado. I won't even notify the authorities of what happened—"

Frank reasonably pointed out, "There's a couple people trapped upstairs who know about us and everything else."

Arrogantly sniffing, Van Wayne made it clear, "They'll stay quiet or start looking for another job."

"Uh-huh," came from a skeptical Xander. "And if you lose?"

That earned him another persuasive shrug from Van Wayne. "You take the money and leave, but if you're caught, I swear to say you're a security company I hired to secretly test our executive protection capacity. Obviously, we need to work on it more considering how easily I was captured by you. That should allow you to escape scot-free from any charges."

This…had to be about the dumbest thing Xander had heard of lately, but when he glanced around the table, the other guys were actually considering it. In fact, Frank now told him, "Play the hand, Sammy. Sounds like a win-win deal for us!"

Xander was about to protest, but he remembered he wasn't really a crook. It's not like he was honestly going on the lam to Brazil with the others. They could take their own chances, but in the meantime, Xander had to look after himself.

Uttering an accepting, "Yeah, fine," Xander pushed the cards over to Van Wayne. "You shuffle, just to avoid going back on your promise later."

Gathering up the cards, Van Wayne did as he'd been told but with an indignant bleat, "A Wayne keeps his word! We might do our best to wriggle out of it afterwards, but when completely pinned down, we stick to it!"

"Right," tersely commented Xander, who studied the cards he'd just been dealt. "Four for me."

"I'll hold," smirked Van Wayne with the worse ever poker face Xander had seen. Indeed, when his opponent received the four cards he'd requested, Van Wayne crowed while putting down his own cards, "A full house! Three sevens and a pair of aces! Beat that!"

One by one, Xander laid down his cards face-up. "A king. A two. A two. A two. A two."

Collapsing back in his chair, Van Wayne stared slack-jawed at four of a kind. Just when Frank leaned over to pound Sammy hard on the nearest shoulder in congratulations, the fallout shelter door blew in.

With ringing ears and coughing from the dust abruptly filling the entire room, five men gaped at the tall figure dressed in pure black leather now standing in the doorway. A cape of midnight hue swirling around his legs, the Batman menacingly ordered, "Put your hands flat on the table! Nobody moves otherwise when I get Mr. Wayne and the money out of here—"

"Not so fast there!" Van Wayne shakily got to his feet but still sending his haughtiest glare at the superhero. "This is a perfectly innocent poker game we were just playing! And these are the security experts I hired to test the building protection policy! Unless you're here to pay off the rest of what you owe me for my car's mirror you ruined, you can just go away at once!"

"What did you say?" came from a disbelieving Batman, whose incredulity was shared by the others in the room.

Condescendingly drawing himself up even further, Van Wayne declared, "Waynes always settle their debts, but I doubt you'd know about that, Mr. Batman! Now, shoo."

From where Xander was trying not to wet himself in sheer fanboy glee, this man's head snapped around to gawk at the blank far wall of the fallout shelter. There seemed to be nothing there to attract his attention, but the others also did the same when a glowing-white disk suddenly shimmered into existence against the wall there, about eight feet wide and reaching from floor to ceiling.

All then heard a woman's voice anxiously call out from the disk, "Xander? Are you there? Move your butt, mister! I can't hold open this portal for long!"

Getting up from his chair to ignore how the others were gaping at him, Xander shouted in turn at the portal, "Wils? I thought you couldn't get me home for another couple of months!"

The unseen woman's voice turned quite sheepish when she replied, "Um, I forgot to carry the six. Anyway, you have to come through now! There's no more than twenty seconds left! Nineteen, eighteen—"

Over the sound of this warning countdown, Xander hurriedly said to an astonished Frank, "Sorry, fella, no time to explain, but I'm glad to have known you. You, Al, and Milt can split my share – maybe give some to whoever the real Sammy is – so, 'bye, guys!"

Xander then rushed directly at the glowing disk. Under the baffled gazes of the people he left behind, the man with an eyepatch somehow vanished through both the illuminated object and the wall beyond. A mere second or two later, the disk contracted and flickered out of existence, but not before the woman's voice now said with a great deal of confusion in her tone, "Xan? Why do you look like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?"

There was a moment of deep silence in the fallout shelter, to then be broken by Van Wayne saying appreciatively, "Now, that wasn't boring!"